Discharge and Becoming Just Like Keith Richards - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 9

The previous installment of this series is here: Meetings, Matsuri Festivals and the Future - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 8 )

The day of my discharge was just like any other day. I woke up at 6 and then made my bed and went to breakfast. Everyone knew I was getting discharged and they all treated me like the "Birthday Boy" which, in a sense, I guess I was.

After breakfast I met with Doctor Watanabe and the kindly old nurse. Doctor Watanabe had helped me to to arrange for weekly counseling once I was out of the hospital, which I went to for two years religiously, and he was there to give me some final words of encouragement.


He shook my hand and said to me, "I never want to see you back here again. Now you have a wonderful wife and a wonderful family and a good job. Make sure you keep them." I thanked the doctor for all his good help and then thanked the nurses.


For my friend Rusulan, who had no family to visit (and, I'm sure the hospital would not allow any more visits by his girlfriend) I gave my drinking cup. This might seem a strange present, but all ones possessions were provided by family. I had asked my wife to give me a good drinking cup that had a lid on it. Rusulan had nothing so I gave him mine.


I said to the nurse, "Tell Rusulan to leave this place as soon as he can and good luck."


With that I said my final "Goodbyes" and I was out the door. It was good to be alive.


The first place I had to visit was the shoes shop across the street from the hospital. It was an old mom and pop store. When the owner of the store greeted me at the entrance he looked down at my shoes and saw that I had no shoelaces. He knew exactly what that meant. I was, at first, embarrassed, but he smiled broadly at me and said, "Congratulations! I know exactly what you need!"

I reckoned he did know exactly. He must have seen a thousand people before me who walked in just like me without shoe laces too. He knew they had just been released from an ordeal at the hospital across the street. After I paid for my shoe laces he sat down with me and while I laced one shoe, he laced the other for me. As I walked out I thanked him and he wished me "Good luck."


My next stop was a few shops down and it was a corner sushi shop. I was dreaming of sushi! Funnily enough, for some reason, I had cravings for natto sushi. I ordered three rolls of that and off I went to the train station.


Everything seemed fresh and new. I was able to see things just like when I first came to Japan. The surroundings were an interesting view in every direction and the air smelled fresh. Finally, I walked to a cheap haircut barber shop and got my hair cut for ¥1,000 (about $10). Then I was on the train, eating natto rolls and heading home.


It was nice to get back home and I can honestly say that I have never been back to Matsuzawa hospital nor have I done any speed again. The weird thing is that I haven't had the desire. I was diagnosed with Bi-polar disorder and then given drugs to control it. Strange, it was. As soon as I began the counseling and the therapy, I was a very happy person!


There was one last thing, though, about this entire episode that I would like to relate about what a twisted world we live in. I have worked in the music business since 1978. In that time I can honestly say that I personally have known several people who have died from drug over-doses or committed suicide. I also cannot count how many people I've know who were arrested and spent time in jail for drugs or drug possession related offenses; that includes Japan and the United States. I even know a few people who, at one time were on top of the world, their show business career's a smash success, only to have a drug arrest or similar episode ruin their career overnight.


It is always a big story whenever a TV star or a famous musician is busted for some drug offense. 


But like the old story about cockroaches; If you find one in the kitchen, it's a sure bet that there are hundreds, if not thousands, more around it. 

There is never just one

When I returned back to the radio station, I had my head low and was ready to apologize for inconveniencing my staff and the station Program Director (PD). I opened the door to the office and the looked up at me. Normally he would scowl and treat me poorly, but on this day, no! On this day, he smiled broadly and ran to shake my hand.


"Wow! Mike! You are so cool! You are just like Keith Richards, man! Wow! I so envy you!" He was serious! He was beaming from side to side and I almost thought he was going to ask me for my autograph!


Just then, several others saw me too and they joined into slapping me on the back and adding the "Wow! Cool! I wish I could do that!" type of comments.


I thought they were nuts. But I know well what they are doing and I know very well what goes on in the "dark side" of show business. I know that they, too, have thought many times, "Do I need help?"


There's a reason why they say, "Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll."

But I thanked them all and I was relieved that they didn't think poorly of me because of it. To this day I am astounded how they think going through something like the troubles Keith Richards did with drugs, arrests, rehab, etc. is "cool!" 


There are many people around you and me who have trouble with some sort of sickness or addiction. And they need help and understanding. First off, people need to understand exactly what an addiction is. 


Please refer to What is an Addiction? This is a post I wrote a while back so I'd like to quote it at length: 

I "graduated" from Matsuzawa Hospital. Matsuzawa is the oldest and most famous drug and alcohol rehabilitation hospital in all of Asia. It is said that if you can graduate from Matsuzawa that is equal to the level of graduating from Japan's number one university: Tokyo University.

I did that. And I had some of the best and most famous doctors as teachers in all of Japan. Let me tell you what Dr. Watanabe taught me when I was at Matsuzawa Hospital.

Of course, there are many kinds of addictions and I believe they all stem from different reasons that have to do with different personality types of people and psychological causes... But there is one thing about all addictions that is common: Addictions are not the problem of alcohol, drugs, gambling, sex or whatever. Addiction is not a problem of the substance abuse in and of itself... Addiction is a problem of human communication.

For example, drug addiction is not a problem of drugs. Drug addiction, like all addictions is a problem of human relations. This is the part about addictions that people fail to recognize for what it is. Drug addiction, like all addictions become a problem when they start to interfere with your human relations and communications with the people around you.

There will be many people who will scoff at this, but ask any professional doctor who deals with addictions and they will say what I am about to partake to you is true: In the case of, say, drugs consider; You could go live on a desert island, all by yourself, and do speed and heroin or LSD everyday from morning until night, everyday of the year, for years on end and you would not be called a drug addict. 

That's true. You could do, say, heavy psychedelic drugs everyday 24/7 and yet you would not be considered a drug addict. You would, most surely, be a heavy drug abuser and have many problems, but you wouldn't be considered a drug addict. 

The term "drug addict" would not be applied to you until your drug abuse became a problem with your relations and communication with the people around you... No people around you? Then it's no problem.

You know, there are drug abusers and alcohol abusers all around us. Many people are abusing illicit drugs but the biggest problem in our society today is the massive abuse of prescription drugs, over-the-counter medicines. 

Different chemicals affect different people differently (I include alcohol in the term "chemicals"). In the case of alcohol, consider: There are many people who can have a drink of scotch and go to work, no problem! I even know people who have a bottle in their desk and they seem to function normally. I've always admired and envied those kinds of people. I can't do that. I am the personality type that is either sober or drunk. So I do not drink at all before work is over... Even one glass of beer until work is over? No way!

You see people like that in the movies. Ever seen "The Great Lebowski"? He would grab a Black Russian and head out the door for whatever adventure he was on at the moment... People like that are cool, I think. Me? If I had the one drink, I'd lose all desire to do anything but sit down and vegetate and drink more. The one drink would make me useless. I'd stop working and could probably only have fun and function with other people who are drinking.

Anyway, like I said, different chemicals affect different people in different ways. Upon drinking some people get happy (that's me) and start singing (that's me too!)... Others get melancholy; some get aggressive and want to start fighting; others start to cry; some fall asleep! There are many types of people and many types of chemicals so it is obvious that there are many different ways these chemical react in each person's brain.

This is the great misunderstanding about "Drug addict" or "Alcoholic." Some people can do drugs or drink everyday and function normally in a normal society (if you can call our modern society "normal" but that is a different subject).

Just because your spouse or co-worker drinks everyday, doesn't mean that they are a alcohol-addict. The moment their drinking starts to affect their home life or work or relations with other people, that's the moment then they can be labelled to have a "problem". 

There are people around us right now who are doing drugs (legally or illegally) and, not to make judgements on morality as that is not my issue here, but if they can function normally, then they haven't a problem.

Then there are others. Most of us, like me, either abstain or we have a problem. When you look at it like this, it is pretty "Black and White". 

Now that I understand and recognize drug and alcohol addiction for what it is, I can cope and control myself. I never do drugs, no longer wish to yet I drink often...But since I understand what I am dealing with, my drinking never conflicts with work nor does it make it a problem at my home.

Trust that I, like many others, have had problems at home with drinking too much... It hasn't happened recently... Understanding these problems for what they are cannot allow me to say that they will never happen again. No one knows the future, but.... Hopefully, as we get older, we get wiser.

Understanding what addiction is and what it really means can help people to control their behavior better... It can also help those who live with such a person to know how best to handle the situation and where to seek help.

There are many people around you and me who have trouble with some sort of sickness or addiction. And they need help and understanding. 

Readmore..

Meetings, Matsuri Festivals and the Future - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 8

(Part seven of this series is here: Nowhere to Run to Nowhere to Hide - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 7)

About once a week every patient had meetings with the doctors. I never could figure out, really, what the purpose of my meetings were. There would usually be about 4 or 5 doctors sitting in a room and they would call you in. It was always a cordial affair for me but I can imagine that some of the other patients would make the meetings antagonistic.

In my case, it was always questions about how I felt and how I was doing. My answers were nearly always the same: I'm fine coupled with; when do you think I can I go home?


Sometimes they'd sit me down and ask me all sorts of questions that seemed to have nothing at all to do with my current situation. The questions were frustrating and, I realized later, that generating frustration might have the purpose of the entire line of questioning. I think, perhaps, the doctors wanted to see if you could keep your cool or how fidgety or irritable you'd get.


I could never figure out why, for example, they'd want to know if I had ever been to Italy before or if I liked pizza better than spaghetti... Who knows? Maybe it was all just small talk after all.


Besides these meetings, as I mentioned before, sometimes one or two of the doctors would sit in upon my visits with my wife. Of course, not the entire visit, just for a while and with our permission.


At the very last of these meetings, soon after they requested that my wife curtail her visits, the top doctor of the entire rehabilitation ward showed up. His name was Doctor Tanaka. I heard that he was (and probably still is) one of the most famous doctors for this sort of thing in all of Japan. Doctor Tanaka was there along with my regular doctor and a a male nurse and one of the kindly old female nurses. 

Not my doctors... But you get the picture

Forgive me for not introducing my regular doctor to you until now. His name didn't seem important then, but his name was Doctor Watanabe. Doctor Watanabe was a very good doctor and a nice guy. It was his shoes that I saw the first time when I was in the cooler. It was him who was the one who first asked me if I was alright. 


It was my final meeting with the doctors, I didn't know it at the time, my wife was also was present. So, in total, there were doctors Watanabe and Tanaka, and one of the kindly old lady nurses and a male nurse sitting in as observers and my wife.


Of course, since I did not know that this was my final meeting, I didn't expect anything different from the few times we had such meetings before. I'd find out much later, long after this meeting was over, that it was very much dependent upon my wife's opinion if I were to be released or not. As I mentioned before, the doctors wanted me out of there as soon as possible. The reason being that, from their experience, they knew that the longer a person was inside of Matsuzawa hospital, the harder it was for them to reintegrate to society and become a productive member again. 


The doctors wanted me out. I think my wife wasn't too sure. Perhaps this meeting was for her more than me.


But, isn't that an amazing contradiction? You have to go to the hospital to do something about a chemical or alcohol addiction, but the longer you are there, the worse off you will be. I'm sure this created a huge dilemma for the doctors and the people who would be the guarantors for the people who were released. I mean, just how long is "long enough?"

The guarantors of patients to be released were usually spouses or parents or relatives who promised to look after the recovering addict and guaranteed to look after them and provide them with food, support and a place to sleep. It wouldn't do at all for the government to help someone through rehabilitation and spend all that public monies only to have that patient leave the hospital and become homeless or an extra burden on society. What would the purpose of the the entire affair have been for if that were the result? It was a government run institution so they had a system whereby they had a very high percentage of success... Or they had a good reason to believe that releasing you was a safe bet. Otherwise, why take the chance? You won't be raising hell and bothering society in D-41. 


The final meeting for me was a group discussion about whether to or not release me from the hospital's care and into my wife's care. My wife sat silent throughout most of the meeting. The doctor's kept asking me what I wanted and my answers were predictable; and stupid. I kept pleading for release like a little kid. I should have known that I needed to keep a level head and, whether I was or not, act competent enough to be released.


Finally, after going around for an hour, the head doctor, Doctor Tanaka seemed like he had heard enough. With an extremely serious scowl he pointed his finger straight at me and said, 


"Rogers san, if I order your release today, do you promise me that you will never, ever do any drugs again as long as you live?" 


The question caught me off guard. I wanted to jump out of my seat and yell, "Of course! Never again! You kidding me?" But, I sank back, instead, towards the back of my chair. Everyone in the room was staring right at me. I looked at them all. In my paranoia, I thought, "Is that a trick question?" From trading stocks and financial instruments, as well as being an avid reader of Hemingway and the likes, I knew that no one can predict the future. I was sure that this was, indeed, a trick question. I gathered my thoughts and slowly replied,


"Do I promise to never do drugs again?..." I stalled to find the correct answer... And the room grew dead silent. You could have heard a pin drop. Everyone stared at me. "Well," I continued, "No one knows what the future holds so I cannot say for sure. I cannot say exactly... I want to be happy though. I want to try to return to enjoying life and being with my family and loved ones again...." I paused...


In my mind and in my heart, I know that I am an excellent public speaker, but this time, I couldn't find the right words exactly. I knew that I had to show the frailty of humanity to these people or I couldn't garner their sympathy. Perhaps I wasn't ready for discharge, my head wasn't clear. I continued, repeating my last sentence...


"I want to try to return to enjoying life and being with my family and loved ones again.... But, like I said, no one knows the future. I think that if my entire family were killed in an accident tomorrow that I probably would be so depressed that I'd want to die and I'd probably start doing drugs and drinking and who knows what else? So, I'm sorry to say that, Doctor Tanaka, since no one knows what the future holds, I cannot honestly promise you that I will never do drugs again. I'm sorry." And I bowed as humbly as I could.


There was a pause and suddenly, Doctor Tanaka slapped his palm on the desk and stood up and pointed to me and said, "Release him!" and he grabbed his papers and books under his arm and then just walked out of the room without saying another word. Just like that, he was gone.

Inside my head, it was like one of those courtroom TV shows where everyone anxiously awaits the jury's verdict... The entire room holds their breath. When the jury stands up and announces the decision, "Not guilty!" the entire room erupts into chatter and the movement of chairs and smiles and handshakes. Only this time it wasn't a courtroom and I wasn't expecting any sort of decision like that at all. In my heart, I never expected that these sorts of decisions were even made in such a way at all. Doctor Tanaka's reaction came as a total surprise.


When Doctor Tanaka left the room, Doctor Watanabe came up to me and smiled and patted me on the shoulder. He said, "We'll get all the paperwork necessary for your wife and you will be home day after tomorrow." I couldn't believe my good fortune.


Inside myself I was jumping and screaming for joy like I had just won the lottery but on the outside I tried to act cool and not overjoyed. Nevertheless, I'm sure the happiness showed on my face. I'm also sure if I did jump up and down like an over-joyed eight year old, that might have been greatly frowned upon. I knew that I had to act like an adult and not my normal immature self.


My wife smiled at me and we hugged. She had to go meet the doctors to discuss some matters and sign some documents. She said that she'd leave money for me and that the first things she wanted me to do was buy some shoelaces and get my hair cut before I came home. I asked if I could buy some sushi and eat it on the way home and she laughed.


Later on, still a bit shell-shocked by what had transpired, I saw the kindly old woman nurse and asked her if she would talk to me for a few minutes. She agreed and I asked her why, all of a sudden, Doctor Tanaka agreed to release me at the meeting a few hours before. She told me,


"I have seen Doctor Tanaka ask that very same question to over one thousand patients before you, Rogers san, and you are only one of about two or three who ever gave the correct answer. Most times the doctor will ask that question and nearly everyone answers like a ten-year-old boy; they all swear to god that they will never ever do drugs again. But, when you stop to think about it, it is as you answered, Rogers san, no one knows what the future holds. To make a promise that you will never ever do something again is foolish and immature. Only a child would make such a promise. So many before have made that promise and they all wind up staying for another month or two or even more..." She smiled at me. 


"Thank you," I said to her. In my mind I thought about how she always did extra things for the patients like bring flowers to the ward and tend to the garden in her break time. "What a kind person this woman is..." I thought.  


The next morning, my final day at D-41 was the day of the "Matsuri" (festival). There were several young college student interns who were volunteering to help at D-41 over the time I was there and it was their duty to help out where ever possible and to make life a bit more enjoyable for the patients. 


They had received permission from the doctors to hold a small Matusuri in the fenced off D-41 garden area. I wasn't so enthused about this event because I was counting the seconds towards my discharge and that completely occupied my entire mind. Even so, each patient, yours truly included, was assigned a job. There was duties that involved making Yakitori (chicken on a stick), cooking  other sorts of festival delights, manning booths, and cooking Yakisoba. It wasn't a large affair, but just a nice time for the patients to go outside, sit under a tree, enjoy the grass and the birds singing and spend a short time remembering the wonders of freedom and how much they are missing. 


I was to help with decorations, which I did, and also to help with cooking Yakisoba. Yakisoba is noodles, mixed with vegetables and friend on a flat pan. It is a staple at all festivals all over Japan.


I've never liked it particularly. In fact, I could say that I had always hated it.


I have never cooked Yakisoba before so was very hesitant to do so. I thought it would never do for me to muck up such an important part of the festivities. I protested a bit, but when I went to the Yakisoba booth and saw two of the old timers cooking up Yakisoba, they so touched my heart. Here they were patients of this hospital with nowhere to go and no future, but they were eagerly and enthusiastically cooking the Yakisoba for everyone. I could tell by the expression on their face that they were thinking, "This is going to be the best Yakisoba ever made!"

They seemed so very happy to have, if even for a few minutes, a useful purpose in life. One of the gruffy old guys who had never even seemed to notice me before looked right at me and smiling said, "Welcome! Delicious Yakisoba! Won't you try some?" as if he were really in a real Matsuri in a real Yakisoba stand. I smiled and said, "One please!" I threw them a ¥100 coin and had some Yakisoba. It was the best Yakisoba I had ever eaten in my life.


Since that day, I have come to enjoy Yakisoba. I will never forget the face of that old guy giving his all for that one moment of enjoyment for everyone. I hope he is doing well.    


I would be out of D-41 the next morning. I could hardly wait. Oddly enough, though, I wasn't even out of D-41 and was already beginning to miss the place.




(Part 8 of this series is here: Discharge and Becoming Like Keith Richards - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 9  http://bit.ly/ytIi68)

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Nowhere to Run to Nowhere to Hide - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 7

(Part six of this series is here: Teenage Jesus Pours Vodka on Cornflakes & Listens to Metallica! He Really Does! - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 6)

Rusulan was gone!  My best friend in the hospital had made a daring escape with his high school Japanese girlfriend and everyone envied him and wanted to be just like him. I envied him because he had a pretty high school girl as a girlfriend. Everyone else envied him because he escaped. Funny the weird priorities people have! Nevertheless, we all cheered him on and wished him well.


I knew I'd never see him again.

Is it better to live a long boring life or a short exciting one? (Especially if that short exciting one involves running around with a sexy Japanese high school girl?)

I suppose now that I should take a moment to explain about the rules at the hospital for someone who enters then escapes. I mentioned before that, at that time, one could join into the drug rehabilitation program and be admitted into the hospital for treatment, but there were a few "catches." The biggest catch being that one wasn't allowed to leave until the doctors said "OK!" This is because Matsuzawa wasn't a private hospital, it was government run. That meant that it was really inexpensive and there were lots of people trying to get in (still are) but can't because of a long waiting list. Staying in a hospital -any hospital - costs lots of money. If it were a private hospital and you paid them $15,000 a month, they probably wouldn't say "no!" if you wanted to come and go as you wish.  


Back in the heyday of the Japanese bubble economy, cash was over flowing. I reckon that this made the government take a very charitable view of people who wanted to stop any dependence on drugs. Hence, it was basically free to stay in a drug rehab ward in a public hospital. Since everyone in Japan knew of the reputation of Matsuzawa and that many famous Japanese had come and "graduated" there, it didn't hold such a negative stigma as smaller, less well-known hospitals did. So that made it really difficult to get in. That I got in was simply blind luck and incredible timing (maybe they had a foreigner shortage)!


Think about this: I got my own bed, care by several nurses and doctors, three meals a day and treatment at one of the most famous drug rehab hospitals in all of Asia and it cost only about $10 a day! I hear that rehab centers in the west cost $10,000 a month and more. Rich movie stars and musicians pay in the neighborhood of $25 ~ $50,000 a month (and then wind up never being cured).


But the great care at an unbelievable price was the tradeoff. The public run hospital will take care of you and make it super cheap for you and your family for you to stay there, you just don't leave until the hospital says you can. It is the agreement that nearly everyone, who was a patient at Matsuzawa hospital, made.


That being said, this also meant that they weren't really going to send the police off after you if you decided that you've had enough and escaped. The rules were that they'd make it difficult for you to escape, but if a patient did escape from Matsuzawa hospital and didn't harm anyone in doing so, and could "stay escaped" for one week,  they would not come looking for you as they considered your "project" over budget! That means that if you escape and stay "escaped" for one week, they'd give up on you. I also imagine that this would mean that if you escaped and didn't come back that, later on, if you did want back for treatment, they'd decline you. So you'd be best to make up your mind. I found these rules to be quite curious!


Understanding this, if you can, should require much consideration by anyone if they want to enter that hospital in the first place. It is not a decision to be made lightly and, in Japan, as with many things like this, is a decision made with the consultation of immediately family or parents. 


But paperwork and details can be such a boring task and so tedious, especially compared to the goings on back at D-41... 

At breakfast everyone was abuzz with the news of Rusulan's escape. How did he do it? When exactly did this happen? Tell me more! Of course with all the chatter and the lack of actual facts, the story got wilder and wilder as the day went on.


While not nearly as exciting as what everyone was imagining of a well-planned and organized escape, what I gathered that had happened, after getting many versions, and made the most sense to me, was that his girlfriend showed up in a taxi at the hospital that day. Then she told the driver to wait - not an unusual occurrence - and the driver would not be suspicious - as people are often using taxis to pick up loved ones at the hospital upon discharge. She then went to meet Rusulan and, once meeting him, they acted as calm and nonchalant as possible and, instead of a mad dash to the cab, they simply walked to the taxi, got in, closed the door and off they went; the two love birds and escapees gone! Not even raising a single eyebrow of suspicion. The driver would probably not think anything was amiss because he's probably picked up people in pajamas at the hospital a hundred times before.


Once in the car it was probably wine and roses for the young desperadoes as off they sped - not a care in the world. I suspected that I'd never see or heard about Rusulan again. I figured he was long gone never to be seen again.


The excitement was anti-climatic back inside of D-41. There was nothing more to it than what had already been said. The excitement soon wore off by mid-morning and the slow boredom of the days returned. The rest of the day, like all the others that came before that one at D-41, passed by uneventfully. The TV played; patients stood around and smoked cigarettes; we ate lunch, then brushed our teeth and readied for bed. Even though nothing had happened to me, I was happy that Rusulan had made his getaway. I wondered if he and his girlfriend would get married someday?


Tired from the events of the day, when "lights out" came at 8 pm, I went to sleep immediately. As they say, "snug as a bug in a rug." I slept well as I was satisfied.


In the middle of the night, as I usually do, I awoke to go to the bathroom and have a glass of water. I walked past the nurses station and the single light bulb above it and the low hum of some machinery in the distance breaking the dead silence of the night. I stood there for a few moments drinking in the atmosphere and the silence. I wondered about my friend Rusulan. I finished my water and went back to bed.


The next morning, to my great surprise and utter shock, though, D-41 was again abuzz with news! I sat up in my bed and my room mate looked at me and exclaimed, "Rusulan's been captured! Rusulan's been captured! He was caught last night!" I couldn't believe it!


"So fast? That's impossible! How could that have happened?" Once again the stories were spread like wildfire.


I could picture the entire episode in my head: Immediately after their escape, Rusulan and his girlfriend went straight to a dingy and dirty hotel room that was to be their hiding place for the next weeks. After cooking up a little something to eat in the kitchen, along with a few drinks, they began to argue and start blaming each other for the miserable predicament they found themselves in. As the fighting got more and more heated, in a rage, she began throwing things around in the room. 

This actually looks like Rusulan sort of...

"Stop it!" Rusulan orders. But she doesn't stop. 


"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" She screams. Rusulan suddenly grabs her as she is about to throw more dishes his way. Tightly, in his arms, she shouts as she then begins to beat on his chest.


Rusulan then lifts her into the air with his powerful arms and off her feet. Their eyes meet and suddenly they begin to kiss deeply and passionately on the lips. Soon, he throws her onto the bed and, unable to control their savage sexual desires any longer, they rip each other clothes off and dive into a unstoppable orgy of teenage lust. 


It is dark and hours later. They are both exhausted. She turns over in bed and lights a cigarette then heads to the shower. Rusulan is still fast asleep.


But unknown to the teenaged fugitives, as the hot water of the shower greets the tender young and sexy flesh of our nubile Japanese high school girl heroine, there are a dozen SWAT team policemen silently climbing to stairs to the hotel room. Someone has tipped off the police. On the street there are another two dozen or so more police and the building is surrounded. There will be no escape this time. 

Suddenly, with the swift kick of a policemen's boot, the door smashes open and a shock grenade is thrown into the room. Bang! All hell breaks loose as smoke fills the room and, within a split second, all the policemen are inside and shouting at people, "Freeze!" The girl tries to get a towel over her wet and naked body as two police men order her to the floor and, in the bedroom, there is a half naked Rusulan, still halfway asleep in bed, with seven Swat police officers with guns point blank at his head. The lead policeman cracks a sideways grin as he shoves his revolver up against Rusulan's cheek. He laughs and says, 


"We've been looking for you!... Don't move!.." Within minutes both the girl and Rusulan are in handcuffs and within seconds after that, Rusulan is back in custody.


...Well, at least that is what I had imagined had happened for a few minutes of daydreaming there. The scenario I just recanted was the "made for TV version" I concocted for you. The real version of what actually happened would never make it to a TV drama. No way. What actually happened was too stupid to be believed. But, I knew Rusulan, so when I heard what had happened, I thought, "Oh, yeah. That sounds like Rusulan."


What had really transpired and the facts of the escape and capture had become clear to me by breakfast. This is hilarious and, as they often say, "You just can't make this stuff up!" Truth is, indeed, stranger than fiction.


Here's roughly the truth: It seems that Rusulan's girlfriend did pick him up and they did escape in a taxi that she had waiting for them. After that, the events take a comical turn. Of course, I wasn't there in the taxi with the two when they made their getaway, but after hearing the entire story and getting verification from my doctor about Rusulan's capture, and knowing Rusulan, I have a pretty good idea of what went on.


It was like this: Rusulan told his girlfriend to bring a taxi and wait for him as he wanted out of that hospital. Of course, Matsuzawa hospital being what it is and all, it's not exactly the kind of place you go bragging to your friends about when you go in there (my case was different and I will talk about that later). So she probably wasn't too sure of why he was in there.


Anyway, she agrees to bring a taxi along and, when she visits, she and Rusulan get in and off they go. They've escaped! Free! They are on a date just like any other! Where do they want to go first? Why, where do they always go on dates? To the game center to play video games, of course! Wheeeeee!

What a romantic date!

They get to the game center and start playing. What fun! I wonder if they've bothered to stop and buy Rusulan some shoe strings for his shoes? I would imagine that they did. And what of his clothes? Aha! Rusulan planned that part! He knew that he was going to meet his girlfriend. The also told the doctors he was going to meet his girlfriend, so no one would think twice that he'd want to be at least partially presentable and be wearing regular street clothes such as at least a polo shirt and jeans.


Once at the game center and shopping center, they have a blast. I'm sure Rusulan didn't have any money but his girlfriend loved him so much that she brought all of her money, all of it! She probably carried a grand total of about ¥5,000! A kings ransom!


After playing some games, they probably went to McDonald's and, after that, being an alcoholic and all, Rusulan wanted a drink or two. Well, as anyone whose ever spent hours on end at any game center in Tokyo knows, ¥5,000 including McDonald's and a beer or two doesn't go very far on two people.


Well all good things must come to an end. Soon, it becomes late and the girlfriend must go back home. Her parents won't like it if she is out too late and, after all, tomorrow is school. She tells Rusulan that she must go. Rusulan begs her to stay but she cannot. He asks her if he can come to stay at her house. 


"Absolutely not!" Comes the answer. Her parents would never allow that in a million years! Rusulan quickly relents and then asks her to lend him some money but she hasn't any money left, excepting ¥300 (about $2.50). She gives it to him. They kiss goodbye and give a hug and off she goes to return to the safety of her parents home.


"I'll come to visit again!" She says. (I'm sure the doctors won't be looking forward to that occasion!)

"Mata ne!" (See ya!)

Rusulan, sits dejectedly, staring off into the distance looking like he hasn't a friend in the world. Shortly, Rusulan will take the last coins he has and buy a small can of alcohol that won't last 15 seconds as he chugs it down like a Shinkansen bullet train heading through a tunnel for Osaka. Zoooooooom!


He throws the can down and his stomach growls. A few hours later is it 10 pm and very dark. It is also getting cold and Rusulan hasn't a jacket either. He is also famished. 


Well, that's how I envisioned what happened to Rusulan up until that point. Being cold and starving does something strange to people. It kicks in a self-preservation instinct. Suddenly, for Rusulan, things back at D-41 didn't seem so bad after all. His impending capture is something that I needn't imagine nor create a secnario in my head. It seems that Rusulan was captured late at night back at the hospital grounds!

This guy has it right: You're supposed to think about how to break OUT of these places, not break IN!

While Rusulan was actually trying to break back into the hospital by prying open the bars to the D-41 cafeteria from the outside, some doctors passing by saw him. It was probably the first time in history anyone ever was caught trying to break-in to the hospital. Up to then, it was always the other way around.


"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" The doctors said. 


And with that Rusulan was back in custody and back in the cooler.


It all now made sense to me why the hospital didn't really bother with a massive manhunt whenever anyone escaped from Matsuzawa hospital. After all, experience showed; they weren't really going anywhere nor did they have someplace to go.


The fact that Rusulan escaped from the hospital and then was able to actually walk back, showed that, once in Matsuzawa hospital and D-41, there really was nowhere to run for most people.


As I suspected, though, I'd never see Rusulan again. Though I did not yet know it, I was about to be released. Rusulan was sent to solitary confinement at the cooler.

(The next part of the series is here: Meetings, Matsuri Festivals and the Future - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 8)

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Everyone is Your Teacher: Out of the Mouths of Babes Comes Great Wisdom - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 5

(Part four of this series is here: (Mr. Cool, Chocolate Addictions and a Paradox of Insanity in Today's World - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 4)

"He who doesn't know says he does; he who does know says he doesn't." - Zen Buddhist saying 

Arguably, the origin of the title of this post, "Out of the mouths of babes comes great wisdom," can be traced back to the bible in Matthew 21:16: "God ordains strength out of the mouths of babes and sucklings." There are several old sayings that are similar to this one. My favorite - that is also quite well known - probably is, "Fools and madmen speak the truth." 

This old proverb implies that since it is "Fools and madmen" speaking the truth, then most ordinary folks don't. I'd agree. In spite of it not seeming that way, the people inside of Matsuzawa hospital were forced to see and live the truth. 

On the outside world, people can hide their true feelings and live behinds masks in plastic houses in plastic neighborhoods going to plastic jobs and it is even considered "normal" to act like the plastic person you are not.  

This is what amuses, frustrates and causes me great wonderment about most people; it seems to me that most people live a life behind all these perceptions that they want to create for other people (most of whom they don't care about nor will ever meet); they live such a display of masks that they rarely ever show others their true self. (I think this is one reason why divorce is so prevalent today, but that is a topic for another post.)


This topic is so wide and vast that I could write for weeks on it, but that is not my purpose here today. Today, I'd like to teach you about lessons I learned in the most unexpected places and from the most unexpected people.

I had written a long dissertation about debates I often see that are tossed my way from people who are totally confused and continually asking the wrong questions. It seems to me that a terrible symptom of our current economic, social and political problems is that far too many people have an opinion on something that they haven't a clue as to what they are talking about. God gave us two ears and one mouth, but too many will gladly use that mouth at 50 times the rate of the use of ears. Oh, if just more people would study and read books! 

In my time at Matsuzawa hospital, there were all sorts of people who were patients in D-41. I suppose you could call them patients or you could call them "inmates." I figured the ones who were suffering from some kind of psychosis were patients, the ones suffering from some kind of addiction were inmates... But, I guess that's arguable since everyone, inside or outside of the hospital is suffering from some degree of psychosis. It's just that some people are able to hide or control theirs better than others. As psychologist Dr. C. George Boeree wrote in "Personality Disorders":

"Personality disorders are great examples of how mental illness is usually a matter of degree, rather than an either/or situation. At what point, for example, do you go from saying someone is creative to saying they are eccentric to saying they are "crazy?"  The line is really impossible to draw."

There isn't a person that you or I know who isn't mentioned in the above list of Personality Disorders.

All of these people, with all of their disorders... Call them patients, inmates, normal people or whatever the term, they are all teachers of a sort....


Even though the days went by at an excruciatingly slow pace, there was a wide variety of all sorts of extremely interesting people at D-41. Besides the already mentioned, Mr. Halloween and Mr. Cool, some notables was my room-mate (whose name escapes me) who seemed like your ordinary everyday average 30-some-year-old Japanese guy. I couldn't see anything wrong with him in the least and expected, at any moment, for him to get up and walk out of the hospital forever. The only thing he did do that I thought was a waste of time was that he slept just about all day... But, then again, most everyday average 30-some-year-old Japanese guys that I know would do the same the first chance they got.

There was also a Buddhist priest in the hospital who seemed to have nothing in the world wrong with him either. He often spent time by himself deep in reading and his studies. Sometimes I'd talk with him and ask for his advice and wisdom of which he was always kind enough to dispense to me. Sometimes we even played Shogi together (Japanese Chess). Not wanting to be impudent nor to seem disrespectful, I never inquired the reason for his being there, but did ask the doctor once. The doctor said, "Even if he seems to have no problems at all... He has a very serious one that he cannot seem to control, Mike." And that was all the explanation I was to receive. The priest seemed like a very nice man to me but the other patients seemed like they didn't like him or want to associate with him at all. That struck me as strange. "Perhaps, since he was a man of the cloth, the other patients were ashamed of themselves?" I wondered.

On the other end of the religious spectrum was a Japanese Catholic guy who became my friend. His name was Maki. Maki always carried his rosary beads and prayed constantly. That didn't bother me because people practicing their religions, whatever they may be, have never really bothered me. Of course, if they start sacrificing cattle that might be another story (if they sacrifice naked young virgins, I might hang out to watch the show - as long as it is just really "a show.") Maki was a nice guy but had to be one of the most nervous and incessantly fidgety people I have ever seen. He could not sit for more than a few minutes in one place before he'd have to get up and move somewhere else. It got irritating after a while when he'd ask that we sit in the lounge then a minute later want to go sit in the cafeteria (for no apparent reason) then want to go sit in a different place or in his room to study the bible.

I'd find out later that Maki was a hard core abuser of pain killers which, while not usually reported in the mainstream media, is one of the most abused class of drugs in the world. Not only that, they are over the counter medications! Pain killer dependence and pain killer addiction. How many people are abusing pain killers? Well, you definitely know someone who is. In the USA today, pain killer abuse is second only to marijuana use for illicit drugs. So, in Maki's case, if he wasn't mollified on pain killers he was like the lit fuse on a firecracker: sparking every which way about to go off.

Generally, though, for me, whenever I would be biting my nails in frustration and climbing the walls (which was all the time); when my entire being was focused on one thing: Freedom! That's when I'd search out the priest. I'd often ask him for some wisdom about finding some peace and how to relax more in that place that I was beginning to consider more like a prison than a hospital. 

One day, the priest and I sat together at the window looking out over the enclosed grounds. I came to ask for help in controlling the monster that was exploding for release inside of me. He looked at me and asked me why I was there at D-41.

"Because I was a drug addict, that's why!" I answered.

"No. Not that" He said, "I mean in this place, with these people. Why are you here with these people?"

"I don't know! That's why I'm asking you! Why am I here? How did I get here?" I pleaded in frustration. We went around in this line of questioning but when it became apparent to him that I wasn't the brightest bulb in the place, he volunteered the answers.

"You are here to learn. You are here because all of these people are your teachers," He calmly said.

"These people!? These people are my teachers!?" I protested. I thought that was absurd! "These people are all crazy. They have nothing to teach me! What could I possibly have to learn from a room full of crazy people?" I insisted in a not too subtle, yet extremely derogatory-towards-my-peers manner. I was beginning to think this priest was just as nutty as the rest of them were.

Just then, as if on cue for a TV drama, one of the other patients, who was in the hospital for some sort of substance abuse, started raising a commotion and arguing loudly and quite abusively with one of the kindly older lady nurses. This particular patient was a guy who I thought was rather distasteful and was quite disliked by all the other patients. I never really got close too to him because he was loud and rude to everyone he spoke to and, when he talked, he seemed to intentionally spit on people at the same time. Yuck! I didn't need that! 

He was arguing with the nurse. He was saying, "I'm not going to do it! I'm not going to do it!" Over and over this went. What had transpired was that the nurse was trying to get him to brush his teeth. She was telling him that he had to brush his teeth because he hadn't brushed his teeth "in two weeks!" It was probably true. It was the nurses job to keep track of what people were doing and keep a log on their behavior. I'm sure if one patient was uncooperative and failed to do something like brushing teeth, they'd know all about it... They'd write it down and, if the situation continued without respite, they do something to rectify it. In spite of the nurse insisting that he brush his teeth, he insisted that he wouldn't and started cursing her so loudly and waving his arms like he was going to strike her and making such a commotion that everyone in D-41 could hear. 

That was mistake.

Soon several of the male nurses came running along as backup to the woman nurse. I could see the patient's face clearly from where I was sitting because they were just about 10 meters away from me. He had glasses on that were as thick as Coca-Cola bottles and he looked a horrendous mess. His hair was everywhere and even his clothes looked like he hadn't changed in weeks. His mouth was so overloaded with debris it looked like it was a backed up garbage disposal! His mouth looked like the mouth of that monster from the movie, "The Creature from the Black Lagoon," you know, moss and weeds hanging out if it? It looked so bad in there that if he didn't do something about cleaning that sewage area, life would have probably started evolving out of there.

Well, this little "Battle of Wills" kept going back and forth; the nurse insisting that he brush his teeth and the patient becoming even more obstinate in his refusal to do so; especially since he was being ordered to do so! Finally, with heavy reinforcements to back her up, the lady nurse said, "If you don't brush your teeth by yourself, we are going to brush them for you!" (Or she might have said, "We'll make you brush them" but that doesn't seem like something a Japanese would say so my memory fails me here.) That made the man angry and suddenly he started throwing punches at the nurses and kicking and fighting with them.

Oh, no! Not a good way to make friends and influence people!

Next thing you know there was a massive commotion! The man was screaming and trying to break free as four male nurses were doing their best to restrain him without hurting him (it wouldn't do to injure the patients). A second later there were two more nurses running up. If this guy kept it up at that rate, he was "...heading for a nice long restful vacation at the cooler!" I thought to myself. After much rigmarole and screaming, kicking and slapping, the nurses wrestled him to the ground. There they began to forcefully brush his teeth all the while he was screaming bloody murder through a mouth full of Crest toothpaste. The kindly old lady nurse stood there smiling and watching over the entire episode with a "Serves you right, Mr. Whatever-his-name-was!" smug look on her face.

Soon enough, the man's teeth were brushed and dental plaque had been dealt a devastating blow for another day.

A soon as "Mr. Act Like a 5-Year-Old Brat" realized he was beaten, he relented and stopped fighting back against the onslaught of males nurses. Then the rest of the chimpanzees in the zoo all soon began to lose interest in the show. Soon, we all returned back to whatever it was that we were doing to pass the time away before the fight had started. Our moment of entertainment over.

The priest and I stopped looking too. I took this little vignette as proof that what I was saying was gospel truth and that what the priest was saying was just some platonic feel-good nonsense that is neither here nor there and isn't relevant to the situation at hand. I smirked to the priest. "See? I told you. What could I possibly have to learn from these people?"

The priest shook his head and repeated; "Whether you wish to see it or not, everyone here has something important to teach you."

This time I scoffed and pointed to the guy getting his teeth brushed, "What could that stupid fool possibly have to teach me?" I triumphantly questioned.

The priest said, "There are those here who are teaching you how to be patient. There are those here teaching you how to better yourself. There are those here teaching you how to make friends... Him? He is one of the most excellent teachers of all. For he is teaching you the best way how not to get out of here!"

It was like I had been stuck by a bolt of lightening right between the eyes! That crazy old guy who wouldn't brush his teeth was teaching everyone the best way not to get out of that place. I couldn't believe it. The guy I thought who was the most useless and inept excuse for humanity at all of D-41; the guy who I held in total disdain and had zero respect for; the guy everyone hated - was the best teacher there! He taught me one of the greatest lessons in life: That everyone can teach you something! And he did it all within a few minutes.

It was an epiphany for me; "Out of the mouths of babes..." I thought. 


The priest was completely and totally right.

After that lesson with the priest, I don't really remember seeing him too much. And I did, of course, look for him. It seemed he wanted time alone, though. I did see him twice in the cafeteria off by himself reading some religious books but he seemed deep into study so I didn't want to disturb him. I'd never see him again after that and don't know what happened to him.


Even though I never saw him again, I heard about him... 


One day, a week or two later, there was a ruckus in the cafeteria area. Several of the patients were upset and they had demanded a meeting with the doctors. It seems that these sorts of meetings are a sort of "group style consulting" meeting so I was also summoned to attend. I figured that it might be a good chance for me to show the doctors that I could hold a conversation and a logical train of thought and that, maybe, one of them would hear my brilliant repartee and think to himself, "Wait a minute! That Rogers guy shouldn't even be in here!" and I'd be out the door quicker than you could say "Express ticket to Siam!"


At the meeting, there were several extremely pissed off patients who were angry that someone had been sneaking into the cafeteria at night and stealing other people's natto (fermented beans) and eating them.

Natto. 

Now, if you've never been to Japan, you won't know what natto is. But, for 99.9% of all westerners, it is disgustingly putrefied fermented soy beans. It smells bad and it is all gooey like phlegm. I think a close approximation for most westerners is that natto looks, smells and tastes like baby sh*t....Even lots of Japanese people won't eat the stuff. I know few foreigners who will. I like it but it took me years to finally acquire a taste for it. Most people from the west will experience a pleasant gagging reflex when tasting natto for the first time. Japanese almost always eat natto with rice (this is an important point). As I said, natto is sticky, stinky and gooey so you definitely need chopsticks to tackle this stuff. Handle with care.


Where was I? Oh yeah. Someone had been waking up in the middle of the night and sneaking into the cafeteria area and raiding the communal refrigerator and stealing other people's natto. From the sound of it, this has been going on a long time and the patients wanted action to be taken. 


The leaders of the vigilante patients group seemed like they'd probably prefer a hanging or a severe beating for the perpetrator of this heinous crime, but their demands had been softened to sending the culprit into the cooler for a week or two.

It was like a scene from Munity on the Bounty meets the doctor Quincy show! One one hand, a ragged group of rabblerousers were demanding the head of the scoundrel who was stealing their booty, on the other hand, the men in the white suits were observing and jotting down notes about the demands (and I imagine behavior) of the protesters.


Suddenly, out of the blue, one of the doctors stood up, pointed to me and said, "Why don't we ask Rogers san what he thinks?"


I froze. "Me? Surely they don't suspect that I was the one stealing the natto!... Of course, not!" I thought. "Maybe they do know about the spoons!?"... I regained my composure and tried to do my best courtroom lawyer imitation. I wasn't even sure if I understood the entire story as the whole thing seemed just too bizarre to me. I started asking questions. At first I thought that the patients didn't know who the culprit was and wanted the doctors to do a gestapo style search (ala what I feared they were going to do with the missing spoons that I had returned. Whew!) But then the angry patients told me that they knew who the culprit was. They knew exactly who it was! And they said that it had been going on a very long time.


I tried to gage the mood of the doctors and was relieved that I could see that they weren't too keen on metting out punishment to anyone for stealing natto. I mean, we're already in a hospital for crazy people! What are they going to do that's worse to the guy? I asked the patients how it was possible that they knew who the culprit was? They grew angry with me and said,


"We know. Everyone knows! The doctors and the nurses know! He has to go by the nurses station every night to get to the cafeteria." The leader shouted.


I thought, "Whew! At least they didn't suspect me!" (Nah, I have no paranoia!)


He continued, "The doctors and nurses all know!" With that at least a dozen of them started shouting things like, "We know!" "Send him to the cooler!" "It's not the first time!" "He's a crook!"


That I was asking these guys lots of questions was not gaining me any popularity points with them, I could tell, but I wasn't concerned with what the "peanut gallery" thought. I was only concerned with what the doctors thought. I said,


"So, this guy wakes in the middle of the night and sneaks into the cafeteria and opens the fridge and eats someone's natto, right?"


"Yes!" Angrily came the answer from the group's leader.


"But, the cafeteria is closed at night. There is no rice. There's no soy sauce, no chopsticks or anything. How does he eat it?"


"Straight from the container with his fingers!" Came the reply with an exasperated ("you dumb foreigner!" tone added for effect). The rabble began grumbling loudly again.


"Aha!" I had them there. The way I see it is that anyone who wakes up in the middle of the night, sneaks past the nurses station in their pajamas to steal someone else's natto, then eats that natto straight from the container with their fingers must be nuts! (Ice cream? Yes. Natto? No!) I almost wanted to say, "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury...." but I didn't. I said to them and the doctors, "So this guy wakes up in the middle of the night and sneaks into the cafeteria and, without any rice or soy sauce, no bowl or no chopsticks, he shovels natto (a bunch of gooey slime) into his mouth and then goes back to bed..."


Suddenly they interrupted me, "And he's been doing it almost every night for over two months now!" 


I continued, "...Okay, and he's been doing this for over two months now and you guys want the doctors to put him in the cooler for this?"


"Yes!" Came the screams and shouts. It was almost like a scene from a movie about the Salem Witch Trials; the case would be going on and the peasants are yelling, "Burn her!" "She's a witch burn her!"

They quieted down and I said, 


"Look, this is a hospital. This guy is sick. I'm sick. You're sick. We're all sick here. That's why we're here. I don't think that it is good to give such punishment out like the cooler for something like this. The cooler is for violence or really bad things and breaking the rules. That a guy is a thief and has kleptomania that he cannot control is no reason to throw him in the cooler." I continued, "...For all we know, the reason he is in the hospital in the first place is this sort of thing."


The other patients got angry at me for saying this and then one of the doctors interrupted. He said,


"Rogers san is right. We cannot be putting patients into the cooler for such minor infractions. You patients just have to be more careful with your items from now on."


I was glad the doctor agreed with me. Of course, I think it makes complete sense that I was right. There's a big difference between justice and revenge. I think these gentlemen were out for revenge. And, I wonder just how sure they could be that the person they suspected really did steal all the natto.


A few days later, I would talk to the doctor again and tell him that, once again, I thought that I had demonstrated that I should not be in that hospital. Actually, he said he already knew that but there was paperwork to do and that he wanted to release me as soon as possible and he asked me to be patient.


I also asked him, "Doc, by the way, the other patients said they thought you doctors and nurses knew for sure who was stealing the natto. Is that true?"


He responded in the affirmative.


"Who?" I asked.


"The priest," he said.

(The next part to this series is here: Teenage Jesus Pours Vodka on Cornflakes & Listens to Metallica! He Really Does! - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 6 http://modernmarketingjapan.blogspot.com/2012/02/teenage-jesus-pours-vodka-on-cornflakes.html) 

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